


Counting

by armsoftheocean



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries, Pride and Prejudice - All Media Types, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Names, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 17:04:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armsoftheocean/pseuds/armsoftheocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'll admit that he's counting. She's a bit reluctant. // futurefic, established relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counting

**Author's Note:**

> Watching the ending for the 2005 movie made me think of this :) With the whole naming deal.

 

"Why Lizzie?" she asks abruptly, twisting her body from the former position of leaning between his legs and against his chest, a book clasped in her hands, so she could face him.

He's idly playing with a long strand of dark red hair, marvelling at the colour and the length, simply sitting and thinking – he's never really  _sat_ down on his couch before for extended periods of time – until her, of course. She is adamant on the fact people don't need to be working 24/7. Of course, that's basically all he had done since he had turned twenty and inherited the mass media empire. It was like a breath of fresh air, to have someone else to properly  _share_ his life with.

 _It's called taking a break, Will. You know, relaxing? And maybe not touching any files from work._ A mock gasp here.  _You could eat dinner without – get this, making an important phone call!_ She'd thrown a pillow at him after that statement, and he'd chased her into the bedroom, pinning her down quickly on the bed.  _Am I working too much right now?_ he'd asked, his lips hovering a mere centimetre away from her own, before she twisted her head upwards, and met his lips with her own.

Snapping out of his reverie, he meets her eyes with a glimmer of a smile, the fragments of the memory still swimming around in his brain. Shaking it out, he returns to her question.

"Why Lizzie  _what_?" Will retaliates.

Lizzie lets out a huff of annoyance. "I mean," she pauses, placing the worn out copy of  _Little Women_ onto the coffee table, "why do you call me  _Lizzie_? Why not Liz, or Ellie, or Beth, or Elle, or Eliza, or even  _Elizabeth_? Why Lizzie?"

He lets out a short laugh. "First of all, your name has an obscene amount of shortened forms. Seriously, how many was that, six?" he says with a slightly snort before continuing, "As well as the fact  _everyone_ you are acquainted and on friendly term with calls you Lizzie – and I think we're on terms that would be identified as  _more_ than friendly for three months now," he finishes with a self-satisfied smile.

"Cute. Will's keeping count," she teases at the mention of the length of their relationship. The tips of his ears tinge with a red hue, but he continues.

"And so what if I am?" he replies, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

She shrugs, grinning. "Nothing, really," she says lightly, her heart jumping inside her chest.  _He's counting. He's counting he's counting he's counting._

He shoots her a grin, and she rolls her eyes, "seriously. Why  _Lizzie_?"

"Everyone else calls you that," he says, shifting slightly on the leather couch.

"Well… yeah," she replies, "Forget it."

"No! Honestly, is there something wrong with me calling you Lizzie? I thought it was what you preferred."

"Nothing – I'm just being stupid," she replied, before settling back against his chest, and opening her book, signifying the end of the conversation.

Will ignores her sign, and tugged the book out of her hands, and shoved it behind a pillow that was jammed against his spine.

"Hey!" she shouts, reaching behind him for the book. Her arms wrapped around his waist, digging behind his back to find the book, grabbing mindlessly, her face buried in his stomach.

He laughs, a deep, low, rumbly sound that vibrated against her cheek. She smiled against the soft fabric of his t-shirt, before resting her chin against his abdomen, glancing up at him.

"I like how you say Elizabeth," she admits, shooting him a small grin. "It sounds… right, when you say that."

He looks perplexed for a moment, "but I've never called you that."

Grinning, a knowing smile curls at her lips, "there is one place that I can make you say  _Elizabeth_ , and quite vocally, too." She says, while beginning to trace lazy circles around his bicep,

He laughs again, the sound of the warmth sending pleasure radiating down her spine. "I tried to when we first met – call you Elizabeth, that is – but you gave me a nasty look."

She lets out a bark of laugh, before continuing, "and if you hadn't realised, Will, every single look I gave you before was disdainful. I don't think it had anything to do with what you called me."

He smiles wryly, and at the mention of  _disdainful,_ the glimmer of humour fading out of his eyes.

She notices his eyes dim, and the playfulness seeping out of his form, and a feeling of hatred washes over her. She despises herself. Despises herself for being so  _crude_ and unfeeling towards him all those months ago. Hates herself for not giving him a chance when he deserved one. Hates herself for all the pain she's caused to the most kind, genuine, and giving man she had ever met.

But she knows it won't change anything, and nothing would take away those months of hurt that she had caused for him. She winces, thinking of  _how_ he would have felt watching those sixty some videos. Hearing her throw every insult in the book at him. And it shocks her that despite all that, he still  _loves_ her.

"Hey – come on. We both fucked up, okay? Me more than you, probably. I mean, the fact you're dating a girl who made sixty videos complaining about your existence means you're a  _saint._  No use worrying about things that happened in the past," Lizzie says, sliding her body up against his, so she's nestled in the crook of his arm on the too-cramped sofa. Instinctively, his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer, breathing in the scent of her citrus shampoo, and the faint aura of lavender that always seems to surround her.

"Please, Lizzie. If anyone, it was me.  _I_  was the arrogant and assuming ass. You just… told it how it was," he says, his lips twisting up in the barest hint of a smile.

She laughs lightly, the humourous tone creeping back into her voice, "I quite like your arrogant and assuming ass," she says, slipping an arm underneath his body and drifting down towards his lower backside.

There's a silence in the apartment, occasionally interrupted by the sound of a deep breath, and she buries her head into the crook of his neck, her lips pressed against his collarbone, her hands firmly pressed against his hip bones, and dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans.

Kissing the crown of her head, he smiles, "I like Elizabeth, too. No one calls you that, and I like it. For myself."

"Now that's very presumptuous of you, Mr. Darcy," she says with a mocking tone, "what on earth could make you assume my name is for  _you_? And in a personal manner at that!" her hands travel down further, and slip underneath the soft cotton of his shirt, and press against the warm heat radiating off his body.

He inhales sharply, as her nimble fingers work his belt, and slip beneath the waistband of his jeans. Closing his eyes, he leans his head back, which lolls over the edge of the arm rest. She arches her neck, and slips a hand out, and tilts his head up, and planting a firm kiss against his lips. His arms automatically wrap around her waist and pull her in closer, the pads of his fingers tracing a burning trail across her bare neck.

The kiss is searing and warm, and her insides melt away, and every kiss feels like the first bone numbing, heart stopping, and gut wrenching one they had shared months before.

It's home, and it's perfect.

She smiles against his lips, and mumbles out a few words, "you should know," she says, pausing, testing the words in her mind before saying them out loud. Pulling her lips from his, she hovers an inch above his face, "I've been keeping count too." Before he can respond, her lips press down against his once more.

The words  _three months and six days_ echoes through her mind. They don't say it, but they both know there is going to be an endless amount of days to come.  _  
_


End file.
